


He'd Do The Same For You

by twoheadedenby



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, unlovely descriptions of the effects of having a cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheadedenby/pseuds/twoheadedenby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black has a cold, and it means the end of the world (just like it always does).</p>
            </blockquote>





	He'd Do The Same For You

Black was sprawled out on the couch, a tangle of blankets and limbs that were, strictly speaking, too long to comfortably sprawl with when the knock came at the front door.

“Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

That was supposed to have been “who is it”, but had instead come out as a long, anguished croak.

“It’s Cheren. Can I come in?”

“Yghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Cheren let himself in, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Before him was a sorry sight. Black was laid out end-to-end, head resting on one arm of the couch and one leg draped over the other. His other leg was hoisted up on the back of the couch, and one of his arms hung over the side, fingers trailing in the carpet. He was dressed only in a dirty pajama shirt and a pair of underpants. Cheren couldn’t tell where the blanket began and ended.

He swung his bag off his shoulder delicately and leaned against the end of the couch.

“I got a copy of our homework for you,” he said.

Black threw a hand to his forehead in despair. “I can’t beliebe you would betray be like this, when I’b at death’z door.”

His voice was raspy, and he sounded his consonants with the particular difficulty of the deeply congested. Cheren pressed the back of his hand to Black’s forehead, after gently displacing his own.

“You’re running a low fever,” he said, “and from the sounds of it you have a sore throat and a blocked nose, but I think you’ll live.”

“Nod if I have to do hobework on top of it,” Black grumbled. “Unless...”

“Don’t even think about it,” said Cheren.

“A-ha,” said Black, hauling himself to a sitting (albeit slumped) position. “So you _have_ finished it already.”

“I’m not letting you copy me when you have all day off school to work on it,” said Cheren, crossing his arms defiantly.

Black turned to look at him over his shoulder, giving Cheren what he hoped was an appropriately piercing gaze from behind bleary, red-rimmed eyes.

“ _Please._ ”

Cheren’s arms remained crossed.

“You wouldn’t let be down in by time of need, would you?”

Cheren rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_ ,” he said, knowing there would be no peace in his life otherwise, “but I’m taking it home with me tonight and handing it in tomorrow. You have until then.”

Black grinned, weakly. “You know this is why I lub you, Cherry.”

Cheren huffed. “I should hope there’s more to it th-”

He was interrupted by a loud-drawn out sniff as Black tried to catch a drip from his nose before it fell on the couch. His lip curled in distaste before evolving into a full-blown grimace at the sight of Black wiping his nose on his own forearm.

“Good lord,” said Cheren. “Haven’t you ever heard of tissues?”

Black waved his hand in the air. “They’re... somewhere. I didn’t want to get up.”

Cheren disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and returned shortly with a box of tissues. He was around here often enough to know where they were kept.

“Here,” he said, proffering the box. “If not for your sake, then mine.”

Black gratefully snatched a fistful of tissues and held them to his face before blowing his nose with a reedy trumpeting sound.

“Lovely,” said Cheren, nudging Black a little further along the couch with his body so he could seat himself. “Here.”

He gently laid Black’s head back down in his lap, brushing his bangs back where they were stuck to his clammy forehead.

“Do you want the TV on?”

Black nodded dozily.

Still stroking his hair with one hand, Cheren reached his other to the coffee table and grabbed the remote. He turned the TV on and then turned the volume down to a low hum. The station it was set to was playing after-school cartoons. That would do.

“Thang you,” he croaked.

He leaned up to kiss Cheren on the cheek in gratitude, who shrieked in alarm.

“Aw, come on,” Black whined. “You said I wasn’t terminal.”

“That doesn’t mean I _want_ whatever you have!” Cheren angrily retorted.

“I thing you’re missig out,” Black said as he returned his head to Cheren’s lap.

“I missed you at school today,” said Cheren.

“I know,” murmured Black as he dozed off.


End file.
